


Lions and Lavender

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Series: Magic and Magnolias Verse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Familiar Thor, First Meetings, Happily Ever After, Humor and Feels, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Insecure Thor, Lion Thor, M/M, Magical Bond, Mild Angst, Sort Of, Soulmate AU, Steve Rogers Feels, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Thundershield - Freeform, Water Powers, lavender - Freeform, past trauma, pre serum steve - Freeform, witch steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28109397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: The Madame Witches of ’Magic and Magnolias’ are back to their matchmaking mischief and this time, they have their hearts set on pairing up smol witch!Steve and Lion Familiar!Thor.Thor is a warrior!familiar tired of the battle, physically and emotionally scarred from the fight and craving a place to simply exist, to simply be himself with someone who understands why his soul yearns for peace.Steve is a water!witch running from his past, frightened of powers that could be a shield but also a weapon, too stubborn to admit he needs help but quietly desperate for a familiar to share the weight of his magic before it crushes him.Thor is brash and brazen, Steve is controlled and contained, the Lion wants a good time but Steve is afraid to relax.Lions and Lavender don’t mix at all, and neither does a warrior tired of the fight and a witch who only barely escaped the ice that held him captive.Did the Madame Witches finally mess up their perfect matchmaking streak… or is there something to be said for late nights sharing lavender tea and the quiet intimacy of weaving rainbows in the water and braids into a Lion’s mane?
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Thor
Series: Magic and Magnolias Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052432
Comments: 39
Kudos: 250





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m honestly sorry about this.” The Madame Witch Pepper Potts folded one endlessly long leg over the other and clasped her hands together tight, offering a comforting smile to the visitor sat across from her. “I’m sure I told Thor the meeting was at noon, perhaps he’ll be here soon.” 

“Even if you didn’t tell that beast the correct time, he knows good and well when we take appointments.” The Madame Witch Natasha called from the kitchen as she brewed a pot of lavender tea. “Not being present for this meeting is nothing more than arrogance and a truly astonishing amount of ego, but we shouldn’t be surprised. He is a _lion_ , after all.”

“Now now, my love.” Pepper’s smile tightened at the corners. “We shouldn’t assume the worst. Thor could very well be--” 

“--staring at himself in the mirror and learning why Narcissus died by the river banks?” Natasha swept into the parlor carrying the tray of tea, full skirts swishing around her feet as she navigated the furniture, tiny frame strapped into one of the most uncomfortable looking corsets their visitor had ever seen, and when the ancient witch caught the stare, she cocked an eyebrow and commented, “For someone in _suspenders_ , you are certainly judgmental of other people’s clothing, hm?” 

“Tasha!” Pepper snapped her fingers and shocked a little electricity at her wife in reproach. “Honestly! Steven came to us for help, you shouldn’t be insulting his clothing choices!”

“Oh that’s alright ma’am.” Their visitor _Steven_ sat up straighter in the high backed chair and cleared his throat. “Actually I was just wondering how come you need a corset at all, Ms. Natasha. Seems’t’me you’re about the perfect size all over, there’s no need for all that boning and lacing, right?”

“I’m the perfect size all over.” Natasha’s full mouth tilted in a barely there smile, then stretched bigger when Pepper laughed in quiet agreement. “Then I’ll have you know, I wear the corset because my love enjoys the proverbial _unwrapping_. It has nothing to do with my waistline or my size. Tis a fashion choice and nothing more.”

“Huh.” Steven turned dark blue eyes towards Pepper clad only in cut off shorts and a t shirt falling off one slim shoulder. “And you, Ms. Potts? A fashion choice?” 

“About as much as your suspenders are, I suppose.” Pepper was still laughing as Natasha handed her a cup of tea, then handed one to their guest. “Now then, Mr. Rogers--” 

“Oh it’s just Steve, ma’am.” 

“Steve, then.” she took a sip of tea then frowned and handed it back to Natasha, waiting until her wife had kissed the taste of whiskey into the drink before taking it back. “We should probably get on with this interview even if Thor isn’t going to show. Tell us why you are ready to take on a familiar?” 

“Mostly cos you said I needed one.” Steve’s feet swung a full two inches off the floor in that particular chair, his diminutive frame hardly taller than Tasha’s. He was lean to the point of being bony, big eyes seeming all the bigger against sharply defined cheekbones and a mop of blond hair, narrow shoulders barely filling out his shirt and pants kept up only by way of the aforementioned _suspenders_. 

He was so tiny and fine featured that Pepper’s first inclination had been to call him _fae_ and offer one the various gifts she kept around for when the fairy folk came by visiting. But Natasha had seen the glint of _magic_ deep in Steve’s eyes and then felt the sting of a distance spell wrapped around the little blond, and had quieted her love with only the barest touch. 

Steve might be a little witch, but he was a _witch_ all the same and beneath the blase answer about the familiar and a nearly flirting response to Nat’s comment about her corset, there was a level of sheer stubbornness that both the Dame witches recognized as tipping dangerously towards defiance, a layer of loneliness that was nearly bitter. 

A bitter, defiant witch was a witch tempted towards the darkness, and they could not allow that to happen. 

“Surely you wish for a familiar for another reason.” Natasha arranged her skirts carefully so she could sit, posture ramrod stiff compared to Pepper’s elegantly casual slouch, hairstyle severe compared to her love’s loose curls, green eyes sharp instead of kind as she looked Steve over. “Our magic is amplified by the presence of a compatible familiar, our spells more powerful and curses infinitely more damaging. We are balanced, more secure, and some would argue that the proper familiar brings a stability to an otherwise offset witch. You don’t want any of those benefits?” 

“What some people see as stable and secure, other people see as tied down and controlled.” Steve made a deceptively vague motion with his hands, and magic shimmered in the air for nothing more than a blink before he finished, “And perhaps _balanced_ only means afraid to venture forward into the unknown.” 

“Afraid to venture forward.” Pepper’s gaze was glued to where the magic had sparked above Steve’s fingers. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. However, I’ve been in the match making business for centuries and if time has taught me one thing, it is that those who are loudly content to be alone are most often the ones quietly desperate to simply be seen.” 

Steve shifted uncomfortably on the oversized chair, tucked his hands beneath his thighs and tried not to feel so suddenly on the spot. A quickly muttered _distance_ spell and a sign for _space_ hadn’t deterred the ancient witches at all, and with two pair of green eyes boring into his very soul he could either exhale and wilt and admit that _yes_ he was lonely, and _yes_ he needed someone at his side--

\--or Steve could do what he’d always done when facing the inevitably uncomfortable: tilt his chin up, clench his fists and invite whatever was giving him trouble to come on over and _fight_. 

Of course Steve couldn’t fight the matchmakers, that was ludicrous. Not only were Natasha and Pepper powerful enough to literally evaporate him where he sat, but the pair of redheads were honestly trying to help him, honestly trying to settle what was becoming an increasingly uncomfortable thrum of _power_ beneath Steve’s skin by pairing him with a strong enough familiar to balance him if he ever... if his magic ever...

...The lavender tea in his cup trembled violently as Steve’s fingers tightened around it, and it took every ounce of his self control to bring it back to stillness. 

_He was okay. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay._

“I think,” he began slowly, carefully, changing the subject while trying to pretend he wasn’t close to tears. “That it’s fairly obvious Thor has no intention of meeting with me today and I suppose I can’t blame him. I know I’m a little odd and my magic has no discernible direction, and I know a warrior and Lion like Thor has no use for someone he would consider a burden.” 

“To be fair darling, Thor considers anyone who is not singing his praises or swooning over his muscles to be a burden.” Natasha waved Steve’s comment off, noticed but did not comment on the sheen of tears in his blue eyes. “Myself and my love rank high in those numbers--” 

\--Pepper made a slightly disagreeable noise and Natasha corrected with a sigh, “ _I_ am immune to Thor’s muscles, but my love has a weakness for generous bosoms, as evidenced by her fondness for me in corsets and for Thor to be shirtless.” 

Steve flushed lightly, pink skating the high points of his cheeks as he risked only a glance at Natasha’s generous _bosoms_. 

“Natasha is correct in her thinking, though.” Pepper took the conversation over again, sparing a moment to ogle her very favorite part of her wife’s anatomy before continuing, “And though I’d prefer you stay a while longer to give Thor the chance to arrive, I won’t force you. You are free to leave as soon as you review the contents of the match making contract.” 

“Usually we read this aloud to both witch and familiar.” Natasha pulled a silver tied scroll from...somewhere… and handed it to Steve. “But there is a chance Thor won’t make contact with you at all, in which case it is better to have your name on the contract so when we burn it, any residual effects are erased from your being.” 

Steve hesitated with pen held above the paper, and Pepper prompted, “You understand that by even agreeing to a match, you and Thor’s souls have sparked something of a connection. For the bond to be broken in it’s entirety, we have to burn the paper, the ink and the name of the souls entwined.” 

“And if Thor never signs?” the little blond asked, and Natasha shrugged carelessly, “Would serve the brute right. If he’s so arrogant to think this meeting isn’t worth his time, a little heart ache and physical discomfort for a year after we dissolve the contract is what he deserves.” 

“I see.” Steve swallowed back the all too familiar feeling of inadequacy-- the Lion familiar hadn’t thought even a meeting was worth his time?-- and signed his name quickly, pushing the scroll back towards the witches. “I’ll speak to you both soon?”

“Go well with you, darling.” 

The ancient witches sat in silence as the tiny blond got up from his chair and made his way out through the front of Magic and Magnolias, around the customers searching for the perfect trinket to commemorate their time in the odd little town, around the other witches and familiars that were browsing ingredients for potions and curses. 

The door chimed when Steve exited the store and headed towards the street, and the moment Natasha’s enhanced senses told her the witch had moved on past their shop, she turned to Pepper and asked, “Did you _see_ that, my love?” 

“I couldn’t have looked away if I tried.” Pepper was out of her seat in an instant, retrieving Steve’s discarded cup and staring at the liquid curiously. “Here, Tasha. Here in the tea, look at how the remnants of leaves have formed a water sigil. Did you know his magic was connected to water?” 

“He hides it well.” Natasha looked around their private sitting room uneasily. “If I’d known a water witch was coming into our home, I would have warded the walls better. Everyone thinks fire is the most violent of the elements, but water is worse. Calm one moment and raging the next. Both life giving--” 

“--and nearly malevolent in its intent and direction.” Pepper finished with a short nod. “Steven’s from the Northern territory, isn’t he?” 

“You’re thinking of the Princess.” Natasha snapped her fingers in instant recognition. “The one that was told to hide her powers for so long that one day she lost control and buried her kingdom under ice. Seventy years, was it?”

“Seventy years.” her love confirmed, and set the tea back down. “That is a long time to be under a spell’s power. I haven’t heard of anyone from the Kingdom presenting with magic, but perhaps they all hide it as well as Steven does.”

“Hidden magic.” Natasha mused. “He asked for lavender tea specifically, do you think it was an attempt to keep himself calm and under control?” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Pepper unrolled the contract and ran her fingers just lightly over Steve’s neat signature. “His home land spent seventy years under the ice, and instead of cowering behind in fear when the curse was broken or even staying and reveling in his freedom, he decided to set out alone and see the world for himself. A brave soul.” 

“A brave soul teetering on the brink.” Natasha countered, re-binding the contract and tucking it in her desk. “You know as well as I do that there are few reasons why a witch sets out on their own, and those reason are never good. Stubbornness born from isolation is not a good quality in a witch, and since his home was buried beneath the ice for so long, he almost certainly learnt his magic from distorted sources instead of from the established covens and communities. You saw the sign he made with his hands, most witches don’t learn those sigils for centuries, but he is barely over a hundred and knows them already.” 

“He’s been influenced by a warlock.” Pepper agreed. “They are the only ones to turn to the old magic first. Do you think Schmidt? He spent some time in the Northern territories before he died.”

“I don’t know who.” Natasha deflected, though her nose wrinkled up in distaste over the mention of the wicked warlock. “But we will have to watch him. Water can so quickly change from placid to terrifying, we might not have any warning before something terrible happens. Thor’s Lion is powerful enough to stand against even a water witch, but he will have to watch Steven _closely_. 

“Thor will have to watch _himself_.” Pepper snorted. “I know he is hurting far more than he lets on, and that the wars left him with more damage than we can see, but I doubt Steven is the sort to let Thor or _anyone_ treat him badly. With all that stubbornness and the influence of a warlock, Steven is only a bad day away from drowning that Lion.” 

“Thor’s a Viking, he’s not afraid of a little rain.” Natasha waved off her love’s worry. “And he loves the water, the open sea and the power that the storms bring. We’ve all heard him roaring dramatically at the sky when it rains, he and Steve will match perfectly.” 

“...I suppose we’ll just have to see.” 

***************

It would have been easier to reach home by taking the road right through town and perhaps catching a ride up and over the hill to the neighboring valley, but Steve decided to walk. It felt good to stretch his legs, felt good to breathe in the crisp autumn air and more than that, it felt good to escape Magic and Magnolias and the all knowing stare of its owners. 

Replying to the Madame Witches request for a meeting and potential familiar match had been the most impulsive thing Steve had done in years. In _decades_. His magic had come to bear with no familiar influence, without even another witch to guide his powers as they grew. The warlock had been the only constant presence in his life for seventy years but once the ice above their home had broken and let the sun in, Steve had fled from that life and the way Schmidt had slowly but surely twisted _red_ with warped magic. 

He had fled and then for the decades following Steve had worked on controlling his powers, on hiding the way water trembled when he came too close, the way his eyes darkened towards purple when he was aggravated. Schmidt had slid past purple and into _red_ as his magic flexed and magnified beneath the ice that had held the North captive for so long but Steve-- Steve hadn’t wanted that. 

He hadn’t wanted the warlock’s thirst for power, he hadn’t wanted the mania that came with being drunk on too much knowledge. Steve had wanted to learn and he had wanted to create and Schmidt had wanted to turn their magic into a weapon and when Steve had dug his heels in and said _no_ , Schmidt had tried to kill him. 

Steve had killed him first, and the warlocks blood had washed like water over his hands and darkened the Earth beneath his feet in a permanent stain. 

And now the warlocks influence ran under Steve’s skin like a constant reminder every time he got angry, every time he felt the need to compensate for being small, for being different, for being _him_. 

A spell of _distance_ kept anyone from getting too close, a spell of _space_ kept most questions deflected in the year since Steve had come to the little town high in the forest, and living alongside the river where the wild lavender bloomed in patches and kept the air hazy and calm had mostly settled the water witch’s emotions. 

The lavender _helped_. It helped Steve pretend he was normal, helped him pretend he didn’t feel lost in a world outside the ice that had shaped his formative years, helped him pretend he didn’t need all the spells for distance and self control so he wouldn’t slip and drown. 

The lavender _helped_ , and today the little witch tipped his head back and open mouth inhaled the scent as he came up into the clearing he had claimed as his own. An ash tree at the northeast corner of the cabin brought roots and stability to his life, dried honeysuckle decorated the window sills to ward away the bad spirits and the river that cut through his property was close enough to hear at night, close enough to babble and whisper the words of the water nymphs as they played. 

And there was lavender _everywhere_ , purple and blue, tall and verdant and green, calming and soothing and beautifully fragrant and almost distracting enough that Steve glanced at and then away from the shape flopped onto his doorstep--

\--then glanced back and whipped a dagger edged in _frost_ from his pack and pointed it at the biggest bloody lion he’d ever seen in his entire life. 

“Who are you?” Steve drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t very tall at all, and pointed the blade at the creature. “If you’re Thor, you are an absolute ass for not coming to Magic and Magnolias to meet you. If you _aren’t_ Thor, you’re about to be made into a lion-skin rug, so speak now because I don’t have much patience.” 

The Lion shifted its massive weight and blinked bright golden eyes at Steve, then opened his jaws and gave a yawn that was more of a roar, dangerous fangs out on full display and tongue lolling out as if it didn’t have a care in the world,. 

And then in a voice deep and growly enough to vibrate through the very ground-- “You are awfully stabby for such a tiny witch.” 

“A tiny witch?” In a split second Steve put his knife away and cupped his hand over the river, brought a torrent of water through the air and _blasted_ it at the Lion, soaking the heavy mane and water logging the tawny fur. 

Thor-- because of course it was Thor-- let out an entirely un-Lion like shriek and scrambled up to his feet, at which point Steve pulled his dagger out again and took a few steps back. 

He wasn’t afraid, Steve Rogers wasn’t afraid of anything, but by the _gods_ the Lion was unbelievably huge, standing at least as tall as Steve’s chin while on all fours and outweighing him by several hundred pounds. 

_This was the familiar powerful enough to combat his darker magic?_

“You, witch, have made a grievous mistake.” One step and then two steps forward, the ground shaking beneath each thud of the Lion’s huge paws as Thor advanced on Steve. “I am a warrior, a _Viking_ , revered as a god among those I have bested on the battlefield and those who follow me into war you you-- _you_ would spray me with your water tricks?!” 

“You should thank me for giving you a bath!” Steve retorted, instantly regretted it when the Lion growled, but didn’t let it stop him from finishing, “For such a glorious familiar form, you are messy and mangy and stink! I can smell you from here!” 

The growl grew even louder and there beneath his skin Steve could feel the darker magic twisting in his veins and ready to unleash--

\--and then the blasted Lion pounced into his space, shook his entire oversized body and abruptly _drowned_ the little witch in an onslaught of flung droplets.

“Augh!” Steve went down beneath the deluge, slipping and sliding in the mud and crushed lavender blooms. “ACK!” 

“Stabby and noisy.” This time Thor’s voice had changed in pitch, no less deep but decidedly less growly, but Steve was too busy wiping water from his face to notice. “Tell me, how does such a little thing yell quite so loudly? Where does all that sound come from?” 

“Back off.” Steve scowled and swiped at a hand extended to presumably help him up. “I can stand without any help. And I certainly wouldn’t take any help from a Lion, so shift up so I can yell at you-- _oh_.” 

**Oh**.

“Oh you’re naked.” 

Steve Rogers was a lot of things-- presenting powerful water witch, stubborn to the point of denial, far fiercer than his size would show and far softer than his usual scowl would prove-- but he was not immune to nudity nor was he immune to blushing and right now…

“Oh, you’re _naked_.” 

Thor was _naked_ and tall and _naked_ and the gods help him, Steve was only eye level to the familiar’s chest when Thor was in his human form and _oh_ Thor was _naked_. 

_So very much **naked**. _

“I’m going to need you to back up.” Steve turned his head so he wasn’t looking directly at... _that_... “Give me some space, now.” 

Thor blinked down at the witch when a _distance_ spell stung into his nose. It wasn’t half strong enough to make him do anything, but he still took a few steps away from the fiercely blushing little blond and put both hands up in a semblance of peace. 

Natasha and Pepper had warned him Steven had a temper and a streak of stubbornness, but they hadn’t mentioned the water magic that had so thoroughly drenched him only a moment previous, neither had they mentioned that Steven was damn near fae, achingly delicate with features cut from porcelain eyes the color of sea glass.

The witch was lovely and apparently fierce, and with lavender rising from the crushed flowers and tinting the air calm, the entire moment was almost too much to bear, too soft after the Lion had been too long entrenched in life’s hardship. 

In another life Thor would have taken the blush painting Steven’s skin _scarlet_ as a good sign, he would have taken it as encouragement and most likely had leaned forward and purred for the pretty witch, coaxed him to bed to learn the length and lines of those slim legs but now-- _now_ as Thor touched the scarred half of his face where his eye had been, the mats and tangles in his long hair, now he only saw the blush and averted eyes and the distance spell as a reminder that he was no longer perfect, no longer desirable as neither familiar nor man. 

And when Steven turned away completely and folded his arms, the spell of lavender in the air was broken beneath the reality of their situation, and Thor cleared his throat and tried for falsely jovial, teasing instead of discouraged--

“Well witch, you wanted me to shift from my Lion form and here I am. Do you have clothes with which I can preserve my modesty and avoid offending your delicate sensibilities?” 

“There is not a delicate thing about me.” Steve retorted through clenched teeth, blushing even harder when the obnoxious familiar only chuckled at him. “And why would I have clothes for you? Clearly we are of two different sizes, what do you suggest I give you to wear?” 

“Tis the witch’s responsibility to provide for their familiar.” Thor answer mock-seriously. At least if the witch was irate with him, he wouldn’t look too closely at Thor’s _damage_ and for now, that would be enough. “Surely you have a blanket large enough to cover my man- _HOOD_!” 

The familiar shrieked all over again when a spray of icy river water hit in the nether regions. “Stop that! By Medusa’s snakes, you’ll freeze me solid!” 

“Well, if it’s cold then you won’t need quite so _big_ a blanket will you?” the mouthy witch sniffed and if Thor hadn’t been so busy trying to protect his unclothed sensitive areas, he might have actually laughed. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to tease him, longer still since Thor had smiled at the thought. 

This witch was _fascinating_. 

“Come inside, I suppose.” Steve kept his eyes firmly on the ground as he passed by the naked familiar, ran his fingers over the protection sigil on the front door and then stepped inside his little home, kicking out of his wet shoes and sighing down at the state of his soaked clothes. “I’ll see if I have something to cover you. Where are your clothes, anyway? And furthermore, why weren’t you at Magic and Magnolias to meet with Pepper and Natasha? And how did you even know where to find--”

 _Crack_! 

The sound of something solid hitting something _more_ solid stopped the witch mid tirade, and he wheeled around in surprise to find Thor holding onto his head with one hand, the low door frame with the other, groaning and swaying and clearly hurt.

“Oh did you--” Steve was not going to laugh, damn it. He was _not_ going to laugh. There was nothing funny about the Lion being so disrespectful as to not show up for their meeting and then to get Steve wet and then to be _naked_ as he cracked his skull on the doorframe-- it was not funny and Steve was not going to laugh right now. “Did you hit your head on the door?” 

“It is customary for the fae to adjust the height of their dwelling to allow the humans passage!” Thor thundered, growling in annoyance and cursing at the heavy oak that had stopped him right in his tracks. “I could have brained myself and died right here on your floor!” 

“And you would have been an awfully big inconvenience to step around.” Steve said calmly, far too calmly for how he wanted to absolutely _cackle_ at the big brute getting rather thoroughly put in his place.

But then with his nose wrinkling in irritation, “And I’m not fae. I’m just small. Don’t call me that.” 

“Fae is a compliment.” Thor grumbled, stumbling forward and feeling around for a chair. “I could call you a goblin, you know.” 

“ACK!” Steve made one of those embarrassing noises again when the familiar flopped down into a chair all spread legged and wide. “Seriously, cover yourself!” 

“I’m half certain I’m concussed, you’ll have to do the covering.” Thor dropped his head back and groaned dramatically. “The first thing we will do in our now shared abode is remove that door frame.” 

“The door frame is perfectly sized for me.” Steve grabbed a pillow off his couch and tossed it backwards over his shoulder towards Thor. “Use that to cover up. Tell me when you’re decent so we can have a proper talk about this whole thing.” 

“Very well.” 

There was some fidgeting, the chair creaking alarmingly, a quiet huff and then the Lion announced, “I’m decent.” 

“Alright then, first we should talk about--” Steve whirled around ready to unload an entire walk - from - town’s worth of grief on the familiar, but stopped in his tracks and put both hands over his mouth when he saw just how small the pillow was compared to Thor’s frame and just how little it managed to cover. “I-- we-- I--” 

There he went blushing again. _Dammit_. 

“Let’s call it a night.” he decided loudly, though the sun hadn’t quite set in the yard yet and it was still an hour out from his usual bed time. “It’s been a trying day for me and I’m sure you need to warm up after getting splashed so I’m going to go to bed. Good night.” 

Steve turned on his heel and marched the few steps to his bedroom door, but just as he turned the knob Thor asked-- “Shall I join you in your bed?” 

“Absolutely not.” There were at least a thousand reasons why sharing a bed with a perfect stranger was a bad idea, a thousand reasons more why sharing a bed with an unknown magic being was a worse idea, but _none_ of those reasons mattered when the only one Steve could formulate was-- “Only people in proper pajamas sleep in my bed.” 

“You would condemn a naked man to sleep on the floor?!” 

“Without hesitation.” Steve ducked behind his door and closed it right behind him, pressed his palm to the lock sigil on the wooden slats and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes tight, blowing out a deep breath. 

Su _r_ ely the Madame Witches couldn’t be serious with this pairing. Steve strived for control with his every breath and they matched him with a familiar with little to no respect for anyone else’s time, personal space or even comfort levels. Steve was tiny and Thor was huge. His magic was water based and a Lion belonged to the Earth--

\--though with a Viking heritage, Steve supposed Thor could be drawn to the sea just like he was…

\-- no, it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. 

How was Steve supposed to create magic with an over sized Lion? How was he supposed to hone his skills and keep far from the _red_ in his power with a beast that reveled in the hunt and kill and sport of war? 

The witch’s eyes flickered purple as the blue of his water magic stirred uneasily. 

_Surely_ the Madame witches had made a mistake. 

There was no way this could work.

******************

**Chapter Notes:**

_The legend of Narcissus boils down to “he saw his own reflection in the water and starved to death because he couldn’t bear to look away”. An absolute ridiculous dork and the image of Thor primping in the mirror and refusing to look away is hysterical._

_Clearly the Princess who iced her Kingdom is Else, that wasn’t part of the OG outline, but once I thought about Water/Ice Witch Steve, I couldn’t let it go._

_The “red” of Warlock!Schmidts power is a nod to the Red Skull and honestly how the tessaract stone looks a little like a Water cube. We learn more about his influence on Steve later on._

_I love Thor calling Steve “little fae”, It’s so damn romantic ughhhhh_

_I know this was mostly Steve but I felt like smol!Steve requires more of an introduction than Beefy!Steve, so next chapter we will meet Thor a little better._

_I love Nat and Pepper. Tasha wearing corsets because Pepper likes the proverbial unwrapping and her bosoms? Love me some magicky red heads._


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Steve woke to an empty house. There was no sign of a massive Lion in the living room nor an equally massive human in the tiny kitchen, the pillow Thor had used to preserve his modesty was discarded on the floor, the fridge had been opened and rifled through and the chair at the table had been pulled out far further than Steve ever needed it. 

But the house was empty and _quiet_ and Steve stood there for a long time staring at the empty space and trying hard not to feel abandoned.

Thor clearly hadn’t found a single thing in the little home worth sticking around for, not a couch worth sleeping on or food worth eating or-- or a witch worth practicing magic with. 

_Abandoned_ and Steve crossed thin arms over his chest to ward off the ever present chill of loneliness, then changed his mind and snapped his fingers towards the tea kettle on the stove so the water would set to boiling. 

Abandoned? No, he couldn’t be _abandoned_ by someone he didn’t want. Couldn’t be left behind when he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he really wanted to move forward with a familiar. Couldn’t be rejected when nothing had actually been offered or suggested or even talked about because last night _naked_ had happened and Steve had sort of… had sort of ran away. 

But in his defense, it had been a lot of naked. 

And a surly, obnoxious Lion familiar leaving after an admittedly terrible first impression wasn’t abandonment. It wasn’t the same as a rejection or even being spurned. Thor leaving was simply a difference of opinion, an acknowledgment that they weren’t going to work well together so there was no reason for the blatantly empty living room to make Steve feel unworthy, lonely, left behind--

\--but he felt it all the same.

This wasn’t lonely like when his parents had caught cold beneath the ice and were lost to sickness. It wasn’t lonely like when the neighborhood turned their backs on Steve after he presented with water powers and they thought he’d be just like the Princess and doom them all. It wasn’t lonely like when Schmidt had taken him in and then was so quick to point out every flaw and short coming and complain that the only person blessed with water magic was sickly and tiny and _inconvenient_. 

...it wasn’t lonely like when Schmidt had turned on him and Steve had used his magic to tear the warlock apart, condemning himself to a life alone in the exact same motion. 

This-- this wasn’t like that, Steve told himself as he scooped dried lavender petals into the tea cup. Thor leaving was welcome, it was expected, it was definitely the best case scenario for a witch and a familiar that had no business being paired up. 

_No, not abandoned._

The teapot cracked beneath a boil of too hot water and Steve could only watch with his heart in his throat and tears in his eyes as the mess spilled off the stove and all over the floor. 

It was fine. Steve was fine. Everything was going to be _fine_. 

**********

Thor grumbled to himself all the way back to the town, grumbled about having to get up early to make the long walk, grumbled about the pads on his paws being sore walking on so much rock, grumbled about having to sleep naked in a tiny house, grumbled about wanting to eat but only finding vegetables in his witch’s kitchen. 

_Grumble grumble grumble._

“Madame Witches!” the Lion boomed as he shoved the door to _Magic and Magnolias_ open with his front paw. “My Lady Reds! I demand an audience!” 

“Keep making noise like that and _I’ll_ demand you become the new throw rug in front of my fire.” Natasha was teetering on a precariously high ladder and entirely unworried about it, dusting at a far corner as the ladder wobbled beneath her. “You know better than to come into my shop--” 

“-- _our_ shop, darling.” Pepper passed by, steadied the ladder and then ran a gentle hand through Thor’s mane as she moved towards the front counter. “This is _our_ shop. And I’m sorry Thor, did you call us the Lady Reds?” 

“--come into _our_ shop roaring and grumbling like a beast.” Apparently satisfied with her dusting, Natasha gathered her always voluptuous skirts and slid backwards down the ladder, treating both Pepper and Thor to a sight of shapely legs wrapped in nearly sheer stockings before landing lightly on the floor. “I’m irritated at you, you know. Not only for calling us Lady Red—“

“—Oh I don’t know.” Pepper mused. “I think it makes us sound mysterious.”

“—and also because Steve sat here for almost an hour yesterday waiting for you to show.” Natasha finished. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That napping in the sun is an easy way to let the hours slip past without noticing.” The Lions massive shoulders moved in a shrug. “I meant no harm missing the appointment and all is well now between Steven and myself now. Now need for worry.”

“No need for worry? Poor thing already feels as if the world looks at him and finds him lacking.” Pepper’s usual easy tone was sharp with disappointment. “He had a traumatic beginning, a lonely journey from his homeland and now he is paired with a familiar who couldn’t bother to keep an appointment. Not only have you thoroughly insulted Steven, but you most likely hurt his feelings too.”

“I meant no harm.” Thor repeated. “Steven will understand that.”

“Will he?” Natasha smoothed her skirts and waved the ladder towards the far corner of the shop. “So when you _finally_ decided to show yourself to the witch, Steven greeted you with open arms and a conciliatory spirit? You apologized for being late and he welcomed you into his home and sanctuary?”

“Well, we _met_ anyway.” Thor leapt onto one of the beautiful couches and stretched out, head pillowed on his big paws. “And you failed to tell me the witch has fae blood. Steven is gorgeous.” 

“He is gorgeous, but it’s not fae blood.” Pepper clicked her tongue impatiently at the familiar. “Get off the couch, you beast!” 

“No, I shan’t.” Furry eyebrows lowered in her direction. “I had to sleep on the floor last night because my witch’s abode is both too small for a man of my stature and all around too tiny for anything other than an _elf_. I need a place to rest and your couch is as good as any.” 

“My love told you to move, so move.” From Natasha, who cut a wicked look at the Lion and poofed his mane out to hysterical heights, let the electricity zap along the familiar’s body in blue arcs until Thor finally popped his jaw in annoyance and slid off the expensive upholstery. “That’s better, thank you.” 

Thor only glowered at her and patted clumsily at his mane with his paw. “T’isn't right to destroy a man’s hair. We only have so many _lengths_ we can stroke and voluminize in public, you know. My hair is my second favorite one!” 

Natasha rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt, then frowned at her love, who was muffling a laugh into her palm.

“Oh stop glowering.” Pepper chuckled at the other redhead. “He’s funny!”

“He’s crude and you only think he’s funny because he has muscles.” Natasha countered flatly. “And Thor, don’t you _dare_ tell me what your first favorite length to stroke is.”

“If you insist.” Another one of those big shrugs, and Thor shifted his bulk into Peppers slim frame when the witch wound her fingers into his mane and started to smooth it out. “Thank you, my Lady Red.”

“Mmm.” Pepper clicked her tongue sympathetically as she worked through some of the matted strands, parting them along the pale swatch of a brutal scar cutting the Lion from scalp down across his eyes. “You know darling, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen your injury up close. Is it more obvious when you are in human form?” 

“Aye.” Thor closed his good eye and forced his voice calm as the sting of healing magic danced along the old wound. It was useless of course, not even Pepper’s ancient magic could soothe a hurt that had sunk into the familiar's very soul, not even a potion from the oldest of healers would erase the _grief_ that weighed Thor's shoulders every single day. 

_Aye_ was all the familiar said, and it was sad enough for even Natasha to whisper comfort as she joined her love in de-poofing the Lion’s mane, neither witch commenting that it had clearly been too long since Thor had bathed and groomed, neither commenting when Thor slumped into them as if he was desperate for the kind touches. 

“Pretty love.” Natasha finally said after several moments and the familiar made a low, rumbling noise of contentment. “Does it still hurt terribly?”

“Yes, Madame Witch.” The Lion made an expression that was nearly a smile. “It hurt me _terribly_ when you fried me half to death.”

“Wuss.” Nat flicked his ear and left Pepper at his side to go and retrieve the silver bound scroll from her desk. “So. have you come to request the contract be burned?”

“What?” Thor bared his fangs in a Lion-esque appropriation of a frown. “No. Of course not. I came to sign it.”

“You came to _sign_.” Pepper met Nat’s gaze over the Lion’s head in surprise. “And why is that?” 

“Did you not hear me earlier?” The Lion got to all fours again and shook out his newly tidied mane. “Steven is practically fae, gorgeous and delicate and though his house is tiny, I will simply learn to duck going through the door.”

“Brain yourself on the frame, did we?” Natasha asked knowingly, and Thor grunted, “We did.”

“He is a water witch, Thor.” Pepper said then, knotting her fingers in the thick mane to force the familiar still for a moment longer. “A water witch, and not one nurtured in an accepting home. You understand what that means?”

“I am aware he is a water witch.” Thor pulled himself free of Pepper and took one step, then two steps forward, shifting up to his human form in the next blink and looming massive in the room, hair in messy braids down his back and ruined eye on full display. “He nearly drowned me yesterday. _Twice_. Feisty fae. Utterly lovely and truly a match worth pursuing. Bring me a pen so I can sign.”

“Water witches are notoriously unstable.” Natasha held the contract purposefully low enough to cover Thor's…. _scroll_ …. and raised her eyebrows. “ _Notoriously_ unstable, Thor. I’m not entirely sure of Stevens' story but it is not a good one.”

“He weaves sigil signs with his hands.” Pepper had no such qualms about looking away from Thor's… _scroll_ … as she handed over a feathered pen. “Even here in our parlor he used a spell of distance to keep us from prying too closely, and though he didn’t drink his tea, the lavender leaves arranged into a water sign just because of his presence.” 

“And?” Thor signed his name with the flourish on the contract, effectively binding his and Steven’s souls as witch and familiar. “What of it?”

“What of it?” Natasha snorted. “Do you realize if you piss this witch off by being your usual patented brand of giant and golden and buffoonish, he could pull his powers _red_ and destroy you?”

“And if our bond stays true and he is swayed by my charm, he will lull me to sleep with the sound of the ocean in my ears as if we are adrift in the great sea, wanderers on our journey together.” The Lion countered. “A water witch is the perfect compliment to my Viking heritage, and a power equal to my Lion. We are a perfect match.”

“Thor, you cannot rush brash into-“

“Twas _you_ Madame Witches who paired us!” Thor boomed, and even Natasha jumped at the sudden noise. “And my name is fixed to the contract! Myself and my witch will not be parted now!”

“Your witch.” Peppers lovely mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’. “So possessive so quickly?”

“His water spirit is perfectly matched to my Lion.” Came the immediate answer. “Whether he intends on drowning me or concussing me on too low ceilings is simply details.”

“Details.” Natasha echoed. “Sounds like painful details.”

“Fret not, my Lady Red.” With a smile far more confident than he felt, a bravado that was faked as his injury twinged pain through his temples, Thor reached for one of the blankets at the couch and tied it round his waist. “Our magic is complimentary and so long as we are not fighting there is no need for worry. I am anxious for peace and the worst a water witch would do is cause mischief. I am well able to handle mischief, so there will be no trouble. My fae will learn to live with my buffoonery and I will adapt to his tiny home and penchant for rain drops. We may not truly bond, but we will tolerate each other and that will be enough.” 

“...Tolerate.” Pepper mused as the Lion familiar headed out to apparently find actual clothes and perhaps the rest of his belongings wherever he had stashed them. “He thinks a witch familiar bond is about _tolerating_ one another, but it is far far different. Far deeper.”

“He will learn.” Natasha replaced the signed contract at her desk. “Steven too. A water witch and a Lion will destroy each other before they exist simply _tolerating_. Water witches aren’t content to mischief and a warrior is never able to thrive in peace. Steven was nurtured by a warlock, not a coven. And Thor takes nothing seriously— not the war he wages or the brawls he starts, not his magic or his shifted form. There will be no tolerance in that home, both will have to change or it will be an all out battle.”

“Thor may be too optimistic about the tolerance, but I don’t think you are entirely correct either, my love.” Pepper disagreed quietly. “There is more to Steven than we know, and though Thor acts the fool, you saw the way he melted when we showed him even the smallest bit of kindness. They are both in need of love and gentleness in their life.”

“Water and Lions are _not_ given to gentleness.”

“And yet a quiet stream is a place of meditation and even the Lion rests with his family at the end of the day.” Pepper drew her wife into a long kiss, linking their fingers and bumping their noses together. “Surely there is hope for them just like there was hope for you and I. You’ll see. All will be well.” 

“What do you think Thor meant about being able to handle mischief?” Natasha asked after another sweet kiss. “Why is he so fascinated by the idea of Steven being fae or so sure a water witch would do him no harm?” 

“Perhaps Steven is not the first water witch Thor has known.” Pepper moved towards the kitchen to begin preparing a lunch. “Doesn’t he have a sibling? T’would explain why he wasn’t concerned about being drowned.” 

“Gods, could you imagine the sibling rivalry between a lion and a water witch?” Natasha giggled to herself. “Their poor mother must be a _saint_.”

**********

The further Thor traveled from _Magic and Magnolias_ , the less sure he was of his match with Steven. 

_Yes_ , he had assured the Madame Witches that their magic was complimentary, and yes he had promised that he and Steven would learn to tolerate each other but the truth of the matter was Thor had been _lying_. 

It wasn’t simply details that the water witch had no issue with nearly drowning Thor at a moments notice, it wasn’t simply details that Steven clearly had no space for Thor in his little home. He had affixed his name to the contract same as Thor but it might have been sheer stubbornness, it might have been desperation that writ the letters, not true want for a familiar nor the seeking of peace together. 

And _oh_ Thor simply wanted peace. Too long he’d known battle and war and all it cost him, too long he’d hidden the scars on his heart beneath drink and laughter, too long he’d pretended to be strong when he only wanted a place where he could be vulnerable, where he could be soft, where he could be _known_. 

And the water witch called to him, called to the Viking blood in his veins and all the blood rushing _elsewhere_ when Thor caught sight of Fae-like features, called to his heart to come and lie by still waters and rest. 

But there was nothing restful about Steven. Not the way he wove distance spells around himself or was so quick to use the water as a deterrent between them. Not the way he’d locked himself away the night before or how his eyes had flickered purple with annoyance at Thor’s blasé attitude. 

There was nothing restful about the little witch…

...and if Thor hadn’t known _another_ water witch that had been equally as stubborn, equally as distant and closed off and defensive, if the Lion familiar hadn’t known another whose eyes shaded purple as red twisted beneath the blue of their water then he would almost believe Steven was every bit as haughty and unyielding as he acted. 

_Almost_. 

Surely they could tolerate each other long enough for Thor to rest only a little, for the beautiful fae to let down his guard and perhaps just smile…?

“You came back.” was all the water witch said when Thor stepped-- _ducked_ \-- carefully through the entry of the little home by the river, blue eyes tinting violet at the edges as he looked over the newly acquired clothing and the pack at Thor’s shoulder. 

“Aye. I came back.” Thor returned evenly and set his pack down on the couch, took a moment to simply look at his witch and the place they would call home for the time being. 

Steven was sat in one of the two small chairs by the small dining room table, eating a single portion of lunch from a small plate and sipping lavender tea from a small cup. The couch had been pushed closer to the fireplace so short legs could better reach the coffee table, there was no extra water in the kettle for a second cup of tea, there were no other dishes out of the cupboard suggesting anyone else was welcome to some lunch. 

Perhaps if Thor had made a better effort at a first impression things would have been different between them, but then again, perhaps not. Steven had clearly gotten used to living a life alone and the addition of a familiar wouldn’t change those habits. Everything was _small_ while Thor was so obtrusively large and the statement couldn’t have been any clearer if Steve had shouted it-- _there is no room for you here._

“You thought I wouldn’t come back?” Thor ventured after Steven remained quiet. “I only went to sign our contract since I missed the meeting yesterday. I signed and then retrieved my belongings and now I am home again.” 

“Home.” Steve nodded shortly. “Very well. Make some space for yourself.” 

It hurt Thor in a quiet, secret part of himself that once again he was being instructed to _make_ space for himself, to create room in a place where he did not belong and was not wholly welcome. But it wasn’t the water witch's fault, not entirely. The effort of containing a space to only oneself was a clear defense mechanism and one Thor recognized from the other water witch he’d known. Open spaces were unsettling, too much room felt like being untethered. Strangers in that space meant a violation of _being_ that was more intense for those called to water. 

It wasn’t Steven’s fault, so Thor simply set about rearranging the furniture in the living room until there would be room for his Lion form to lie down in front of the fire, budging the couch with nothing more than a slight push from his hand, adjusting the heavy upholstered chair with a hip bump to make sure there was space for him to pass by. Pounds of meat-- bacon and steak and roast went into the fridge, assorted dry goods went into the pantry, and at the front door the familiar called his magic and placed huge palms on the frame until it molded beneath his grip and rounded up to allow room for his height. 

Steve didn’t say a word the entire time, but as Thor went to put a few toiletries into the tiny bathroom, he thought he caught a brief, relieved smile on his witch’s face. 

And as Thor stepped back outside to add a sprig of roses to the honeysuckle at the door, Steve blew out a quiet breath and let his thin shoulders slump. 

The Lion had come back. It hadn’t been rejection, nor abandonment, neither had Thor seen the way Steve had physically gathered his house around himself as a threat or a push away. They had yet to communicate in any way _meaningful_ , but Thor had come back which meant Steve wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

Maybe this would work. 

Maybe. 

**************

They lived in a sort of quiet for a while, witch and familiar moving around each other in the small space. It wasn’t necessarily peace and it wasn’t quite restful walking on eggshells around someone meant to be their other half, but at least it wasn’t Thor being dashed with water from the river or Steve being reduced to squawking in embarrassment because the familiar didn’t understand the concept of clothing or boundaries. 

Thor kept himself still, made himself quiet and small and reveled in the small comfort of at least being away from war. Steve studied his magic and spells almost obsessively, creating and recreating sigils, writing and rewriting recipes for potions and hexes and curses. They did not eat together, they did not shop together, Thor made no loud pronouncements of their magic being complimentary nor did Steve insist they practice together to enhance his own power. The Lion stayed mostly shifted since his wounds were less obvious beneath his mane, and Steve kept to his room in the evenings so the familiar wouldn’t see just how bad he was at making small talk or any sort of conversation. 

They lived in quiet, lived in _tolerance_ , and the few times they went to town both Natasha and Pepper watched from the windows of Magic and Magnolias both interested and worried about the dynamic. 

“Do you see how dull Thor’s coat is?” Natasha asked one time. “It’s like his vitality is fading right in front of our eyes. Surely after so many weeks they have moved past the first bad impression and are working together now?” 

“Look how Steve keeps himself a distance away even as they walk.” Pepper pointed out almost sadly. “Thor promised they would tolerate each other, and that is all they are doing. I’m sure they haven’t said more than two words to each other about their situation.” 

“They are the two loneliest souls.” Natasha murmured. “Steve too afraid to give even an inch, Thor so desperate for relief that he will take tolerance over peace, he will take this farce of a relationship over what a familiar-witch bond really means.” 

“How sad for them both to be so close to one another and still so far away from what they are meant to be.” 

“Something will change soon.” Natasha tapped at her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps we help them along. Do you remember when we sent honeysuckle to Bucky and Tony because we thought it might spark conversation?” 

“I do love meddling.” Pepper’s green eyes sparked playfully. “What should we send home with Steven and Thor?” 

“Lavender quartz.” Natasha picked up a chunk of the stone from their crystal display, rolled it in her palm then crushed it to fine dust between her fingers and let the purple sand trickle down into a mortar. “It banishes low self esteem and helps those struggling to find their self worth. Fosters joy and brings stability. I’ll craft it into a sun catcher to hang in their window and reflect the healing into their home.” 

“Lovely idea, darling.” Pepper went to find some copper wire to bind the glass, smoothed her fingers over several beautiful pieces before settling on a red-golden strand that felt strong in her palm. “Here is some copper to better align their souls.” 

“Perfect.” If the human tourists to the town had ever seen the way the exquisitely delicate wind chimes and sun catchers were crafted at _Magic and Magnolias_ , they wouldn’t have believed their eyes. To see crushed crystal swirling in the air as Natasha whispered incantations, to see copper wire unfurl and wind itself in intricate patterns around the dust as it melded and formed into colored glass, to see such a lovely piece craft itself in front of the two witches… such a thing would be enough to drive them mad with wonder, and even now even _Pepper_ sighed in awe as her wife created something beautiful from what had been nothing. 

“It’s gorgeous, they will love it.” She held the piece to the light, watched the sun refract into shades of purple and blue across the walls. “And by the time Steve and Thor realize our gift was more meddlesome than altruistic, they will far too entwined to care.” 

“Undoubtedly.” 

“This is a fool proof plan.” 

***************

“Steven, the Madame Witches have sent us a gift.” Thor opened the package at the front door and held the beautiful sun catcher up to the light. “No doubt they have imbued it with some sort of charm or spell but it would be rude to throw it away, don’t you think?” 

This time of afternoon the little witch always retreated to a private spot by the river for meditation and though Thor had never _once_ tried to intrude on the quiet time, so many weeks of relative peace and tolerance in the house gave him a measure of courage today. 

Surely it wouldn’t hurt if he interrupted only once? After weeks now, perhaps Steve would soften only a little to him and perhaps they could meditate together if Thor took the initiative to _ask_. Water witched were known for refusing to ask for anything so perhaps Steven was just waiting for Thor to _try_.

“Steven?” The Lion familiar paused just outside the low branches of the willow tree. “The Madame Witches sent us a gift and I thought you would like to see it.” 

“Come through.” Steve was out of breath, bent over and breathing hard when Thor came through the branches into his little sanctuary, and he turned from the familiar so his red face wouldn’t be quite so obvious. He should have told Thor no, to leave him be for another few minutes but he wasn’t truly meditating and the Lion wasn’t doing anything wrong by asking to join and damn it all, this place used to be peaceful in its solitude but knowing Thor was only a few yards away at all times had turned the solitude towards _loneliness_ and truth be told-- 

\--truth be told--

“Come through.” Steve said again, and the water in his thermos settled it's slight quavering the moment the massive familiar set foot beneath the willows. The witch was unsteady today, had been unsteady a lot of days lately but the moment Thor was close, a part of him settled and another part all together woke and _yearned_ forward for whatever it was the familiar could give him. 

“A gift?” he asked, and Thor didn’t mean to grin quite so big but he had wholly expected the tiny fae to turn him away or even snap at him like Steven did when Thor was big and clumsy and everywhere. But instead the ocean blue eyes stayed calm and the lovely pink lips tipped up in what might have been a smile and it was like balm to the warriors tattered heart. 

“A sun catcher.” he held up the aforementioned gift, handed it over when Steve stepped closer to take it. “Tis lovely, but certainly meddlesome. The witches never do anything random.” 

“They certainly don’t.” The sun hit the lavender glass and reflected soft on Steven’s sharper features. “We’ll put it in the kitchen window all the same. It’s beautiful.” 

“Aye.” Thor swallowed hard when the witch’s gaze met his own, Steve staring up at him from beneath white blond hair. “Beautiful.” 

The glass was most certainly charmed as it spun slowly in a light breeze, scattering purple and pink spots all over the hidden clearing, dancing over their skin and bringing immediate _calm_ to their souls and minds. 

“It’s peaceful here.” The Lion familiar finally looked around the area, at the willow branches nearly sweeping the ground and the river that wound lazy around the bend. “Am I interrupting your meditation?” 

“I… I am not meditating.” Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he admitted the truth to the Lion, but once it was out there, he didn’t want to take it back. “I am practicing my skill in hand to hand to combat.” 

“Hand to hand combat.” Thor’s eyebrows flew towards his forehead. “Alone? Or are you giving the _tree_ a thrashing?” 

“You’re making fun of me.” Despite his immediate annoyance at being teased, Steve smiled a tiny tiny bit only because Thor looked so comical with his eyebrows so high. “I’ll have you know I’m becoming quite good.” 

“No you’re not.” the familiar retorted immediately, and the beginnings of the smile slid right from the witch’s face. “No, you do not become _good_ at hand to hand fighting by kicking and jabbing at empty space next to a grandmother willow. Tis not possible.” 

“So say you.” Steve scoffed, drawing himself up to his full height and folding his arms. “You’ve been doing nothing but lying about the house in Lion form every day while I’ve been training and practicing. Who are _you_ to decide if I am good or not?” 

“A warrior of the highest caliber and a predator to my core.” Thor shot back and the little witch’s nose wrinkled in grumpy agreement. “But alright then, my witch. Show me what you have learned.” 

Thor hooked the sun catcher through a willow branch and motioned for Steve to charge him. “Come and show me what you are so good at.” 

“Are you--” Steve’s jaw dropped. “-- are you serious? You want me to fight you? That isn’t how witches and familiars are supposed to behave!” 

“And the way we are near each other and never _with_ each other, is that how we are supposed to behave?” Thor countered, the spin and glow of the lavender and copper sun catcher giving him the courage to say what he had avoided for the past several weeks. “The way you have drawn your space close to you while I have to create my own, is _that_ how we are supposed to behave?” 

“ _You_ avoid talking to me.” Steve could feel the thrum of copper in his veins as he argued, “The first day we met you had no compunction about being aggravating and vain and obnoxiously unfunny, but now you go entire days without saying a word.” 

“And in the morning when you make your lavender tea, you make it only for one.” The weeks of _tolerance_ between them disappeared as the lavender glass spun and scattered light at their feet and _truth_ finally made its way free, stubbornness and insecurity tainting their words _red_. “Why would you sign our contract if you had no intention of making room in your life for a familiar?” 

“And why would _you_ sign it after I tried to drown you and locked you away?!” 

“Because even the ocean keeps its secrets until one is brave enough to dive deep and truly explore. A water witch is no different!” 

“And here I thought cats were afraid of the water!” 

“And here I thought the _fae_ knew better than to tempt the beasts of the wild into rage!” 

“I AM NOT A FAE!” 

“AND I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOUR WATER!” 

The river _leapt_ from it’s bed and rushed towards the Lion shifter as Steve’s eyes twisted dark purple and his magic surged--

\-- and Thor dropped into his Lion in a half of breath and planted his paws on the ground, opened his jaw and _roared_ at the deluge until the water drops themselves stopped their direction and fell to the ground, soaking the lavender blooms at their feet. 

_Silence_ in the clearing, _silence_ and then--

“You--” Steve wiped at his mouth in shock. “You stopped the water. I lost control for a moment and you stopped it. No one has ever done that. No one has ever stopped me.”

“The first time you tried to drown me, I was unprepared.” Thor’s voice was lower in his Lion form, vibrating through the ground, through the water puddling on the grass and clear through Steve’s core. “This time I was _not_. You are powerful little fae, but our magic is matched and you won’t surprise me again.” 

“I am not a fae.” Steve’s fingertips tingled with the effort of keeping the water still again. “Why do you call me that?” 

“Why do you consider it an insult?” 

“Because-- because--” Steve faltered, and the river water lifted from the lavender and grass, hovering uncertainly in the air. “-- I--” 

“You are beautiful.” Thor rumbled, and Steve’s cheeks flushed red. “Delicate and darling and gorgeous like the fae creatures we see in our peripherals in the morning when the grass is frosted and the stars are sharing the sky with the sunrise. But you are stubborn and cranky and always ready to fight, just like the fae if you disturb their rest. I am both enchanted and irritated by you, but I signed the contract and I intend to uphold it.” 

“I--” Steve’s throat jerked as he swallowed, his entire body shuddering when the Lion moved a stepped forward and he felt the pressure of a giant paw in the water like a physical touch at his skin. “I intend to uphold my end of the contract too. B-Because clearly our magic is matched.” 

“ _Clearly_.” The Lion was tall enough to stand eye to eye with the little witch, and Thor didn’t stop advancing until they were nose to nose and he could smell the lavender rising from Steve’s skin. “Thus far we have been only tolerating each other’s presence. Are you ready for more?” 

“...aye.” Steve whispered and reached careful careful fingers up to just barely touch where the Lion’s mane split over a scar. “I am.” 

They stayed in the shelter of the willow tree for a long time, not daring look away from each other, not daring move back a step lest the spell be broken and the moment lost. 

And above their heads the lavender glass spun in the sunlight, charmed and blessed and helping them fight past the barriers of their own fear to find something better. 

_A fool proof plan._

_************_

**_Chapter Notes:_ **

_Steve being an orphan is canon so I kept it here. Sad, but I also sort of love it._

_I also love Thor being so grumbly at the witches but then also melting into them when they are kind. I love him._

_Everybody catch that dick joke? Good._

_Guess who the water witch Thor know is?_

_The image of Steve and Thor beneath a willow tree as the sun catcher spins around and paints them in lavender sunlight is just...??? I CAN’T TAKE IT._

_I love romantic Thor, like comparing Steve to the fae, what the fuck, I gave myself goosebumps._


	3. Chapter 3

The sun catcher stayed in the willow branches after that first, fragile moment between witch and familiar, and every afternoon when Thor joined Steven by the river, the cut glass spun beauty, peace and calm over their conversations and the smiles that came a little easier day after day. 

“You’re doing it wrong.” Thor called from the river, dipping his paw idly in the slow current and stirring the ripples. “With your feet spaced like that, even a field mouse could upset your balance.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my stance.” Steve huffed, and when the Lion only snorted at him, he snapped his fingers and let the river rise up to splash the familiar right in the face. “And careful _Narcissus_ , staring at ones reflection for so long can have fairly fatal consequences.”

...alright, perhaps the charmed sun catcher _didn't_ spin peace and calm into their conversations but the lavender quartz brought clarity and honesty to their exchanges and for two men used to hiding behind bluff and bluster, it was at least a step in the right direction.

“Tis wrong.” Thor maintained, shaking the water from his mane. “Be wary lest a light breeze take advantage of your instability and knock you right over.”

“ _I’m_ standing wrong?” Steve glared over at the big familiar. “You have four feet and whiskers right now, can’t even stand upright and you’re telling me _I'm_ standing wrong?”

“I’m telling you I’ve trained thousands of warriors to fight and everything you are doing right now is wrong.” Thor stood to all fours and molded human in the next breath, straightening to his full height and wrapping a nearby blanket around his waist. Nudity was _strictly_ forbidden in Stevens little sanctuary beneath the willow, and though Thor would have loved to feel the sunlight warm upon his bare skin, the choice was either blanket or spending afternoons alone again, so he tied the garnet securely at the hip and tried not to smile when his witch turned red and looked away.

“Come here.” Thor motioned for Steve to join him closer to the tree trunk. “Come here I’ll show you how to stand properly.”

“For the last time.” Steve's hair was getting shaggy and he shoved it out of his eyes so he could level a scowl at Thor. “I’m not standing wrong, this is exactly how— _ACK_!”

The witch went down with a shriek when Thor simply rolled his eyes and shoved at him, big hand planting in the middle of Steve's bony chest and sending him flailing. 

“HEY!”

“See? You’re standing wrong. I shouldn’t have been able to push you over so easily.” Thor didn't bother trying to hide his smile, and extended his hand to help Steve up. “Shall we try again?”

“That wasn’t fair!” Steve cried, slapping Thor's hand away. “You’re so big you could knock a moose over with a push! Someone your size against someone my size is not an accurate representation of the validity of my stance or— _glmmph_?!”

The little witch shrieked again when he was unceremoniously yanked up from the ground and suddenly soaring through the air, his toes at least a foot off the ground, eyes _panicked_ as he experienced a truly frightening moment of absolute weightlessness—

— and a split second later was caught against Thor's bare chest, crashing into golden skin and held tight and— and _safe_ by the familiar for just long enough for his head to stop spinning.

Except Steve's head _didn't_ stop spinning because even though his feet were back on the ground and he wasn’t smooshed into Thor any more he was still..: breathless.

“Stubborn fae.” If Thor was affected by them being so close or the way Steve's fingers curled just briefly over his abdomen before falling away, the familiar didn't show it. His voice was as half exasperated, half teasing as always, hands firm as they spun Steve around and movements swift as he physically manhandled his witch into the proper position.

“There!” He decided and Steve had to physically pull himself back to the moment, back to _grounded_ because he simply couldn’t _breathe_ when one of Thor's palms was low at his hip and the other covering his entire wrist and hand, folding it into a proper fist. “Now at least it will take a stiff breeze to upend you and not a squirrel sneezing.”

“Squ-squirrel sneezing.” The witch closed his eyes and nodded, reached deep for his always present self control and tried so hard to keep his voice from trembling. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re nervous.” Apparently blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on Steve, Thor sighed and moved away, circled round front and dropped into a ‘ready’ stance, arms loose and fists ready. “The only way to get used to a new position or fighting technique is to practice. Come at me.”

“N-No I couldn’t.” Steve did _not_ like feeling faint and gaspy but he couldn’t seem to help it. “I think I’m done for today.”

“Nonsense!” Thor motioned for him again, a friendly coaxing smile almost too much for the witch’s suddenly _mysteriously_ compromised nerves. “It’s not as if you could hurt me, Steven. Not in sparring. Come on, let us practice.” 

“I--” 

“Are you scared?” Thor cocked an eyebrow, the scar slashing across his eye doing nothing to detract from how aggravatingly _knowing_ the expression was. “I know you are tiny but I promise to be gentle. Come along, little thing.” 

“Little--!?” Predictably, Steve took immediate offense to being called little thing and also predictably, Thor roared with laughter when the blond launched himself into a fight with a flurry of fists and kicks. He even managed to land a few too-light but still accurate punches before Thor got through enough chuckles to at least engage. 

“Isn’t this more fun than practicing alone?” the familiar goaded, but Steve was too busy redirecting all his early flustered feelings into a windmill of jabs and swipes. He was grateful for the distraction, grateful Thor had been so casual about the moment, grateful the Lion had thought nothing about touching him or moving him so easily or grabbing him up...tight…

 _Stubborn fae_ , Thor had said and for a half second the brilliant blue eyes had flickered golden, his fingers had tightened at Steve’s waist and his smile had dipped soft--

\--oh by the gods, _surely_ Thor hadn’t--

\--surely the familiar didn’t look at Steve and think-- or _want_ \-- no one had _ever_ looked at Steve and wanted-- 

“OUCH!” Steve shouted when he was suddenly, gracelessly, sprawled on the ground again, butt stinging where it bounced off the grass and thoughts helplessly scattered when his head hit the ground too. “What was that for?!” 

“You were distracted.” Thor shrugged those massive shoulders. “You cannot be careless in non magical situations. My role as familiar is to be sure you are always prepared and just then, you were _not_ prepared.” 

Alright, that was fair. Steve was _not_ prepared to be shoved onto his ass, and a familiar’s role _was_ to make sure their witch was prepared for anything that might come along, but neither of those facts eased the embarrassment that flushed bright along Steve’s cheeks nor did it take the hurt away from his mouth where he’d bit his tongue as he fell.

“Damn you and your facts.” Steve grumbled, feeling gingerly along the tip of his cut tongue and grimacing over the taste of blood. “You couldn’t have gotten my attention some other way?” 

“Pain is the fastest way to redirect a soldier whose attention has wandered.” Thor crouched down in front of Steve and reached to cup his jaw, frowning as he swiped his thumb through a spot of blood. “Though I am sorry for hurting you, I would never mean to make you bleed.” 

“It’s-- It’s fine.” There Steve went being _gaspy_ again, his heart pounding and chest tightening and mouth parting helplessly as a calloused finger rubbed against his bottom lip. “I’m fine. Want to keep practicing?” 

“Not if you’re hurt.” Thor’s blue eyes tinted golden again and for an entire minute the witch forgot how to breathe. “We can try again tomorrow.” 

“N-Not hurt.” Steve scrambled after Thor when the familiar stood up, wiped away the little bit of blood and tipped his chin up, hurt and irritation pushed away in favor of not wanting this moment in their riverside sanctuary to end. “I’m not hurt.” 

“Steven--” 

“I can do this all day.” Steve was careful to make sure his stance was correct this time, then raised his fists. “Come on. Are you scared?” 

“Scared.” Thor’s smile was almost… _fond_. “Of a pretty fae like yourself? Never.” 

***************

Training together every day brought laughter to Thor and Steve’s careful dance around each other. It brought camaraderie and a physical awareness to their moments that had an entirely unnerving effect on Steven and apparently no effect on the Lion. It meant they talked at night in front of the fire and in the morning over breakfast, it meant Steve was eating more and more now that he wasn’t just reading and practicing his spells all day. 

Thor might not have been relegated to barely breathing when their hands touched or their bodies crashed together as he taught Steve how to wrestle, but every day the Lion felt more content, more _settled_ as his witch filled out and wasn’t quite so bony, as Steve’s smile became more quickly automatic and the constant sarcasm became ringed in laughter. 

A familiar’s entire job, their entire purpose for _existing_ was to take care of their witch, to use the power of their latent magic to amplify another’s abilities, to watch over the one they took as theirs and _oh_ Thor took great pleasure in watching over Steven. 

Whether the snarky little fae _wanted_ to be watched over or not was a different question altogether, but some days it seemed Steven’s fierce independence wavered towards leaning on Thor, and the familiar took great pleasure in _that_ as well.

“We need groceries again.” Steve said one morning, frowning at the nearly empty fridge then spinning to open a cupboard and frowning at the bare shelves too. “How are we out of food so soon? Could it _possibly_ be the five hundred pound Lion eating me out of house and home?” 

“Could it _possibly_ be the bratty little witch who needs snacks at all hours of the night?” Thor countered, leaning over Steve’s tiny frame to see that even the upper cupboards were indeed _empty_. “You nearly stepped on my tail sneaking out for more chicken last night, you know. I thought your type was supposed to be sneaky and light footed.” 

“My type?!” Steve blustered and the familiar said flatly, “The fae. Sneaky and light footed.” 

“If I was _actually_ fae, I would have cursed your family line for six generations by now.” Steve informed him and Thor just chuckled and reached up to snag a lone box of crackers. “Actually, I’d just see to it that you wouldn’t have a family line. Let your buffoonery end with you.” 

“You wound me.” Thor tore open the box and shook several handfuls worth directly into his mouth before passing it down to Steven. “Are you off to town then?” 

“ _We_ are off to town.” Steve corrected impatiently, too busy digging for a handful of crackers to notice the way the familiar’s smile went soft and nearly relieved at being included in the day’s outing. “He who eats the most, carries the most, so you’ll have to come along simply to haul bags of groceries back.” 

The idea of hauling bags of groceries didn’t do anything to dim Thor’s smile, in fact thinking about wandering alongside Steven while the witch picked out items for their home made Thor’s smile stretch even _bigger_ , and he hummed a contented tune as they set out for the town. 

Steve kept checking and double checking their list, and Thor only half listened as they went along. He was more focused on the way the witch gravitated closer with every turn in the road, the way Steve’s hair shone nearly white in the mid morning sun, how the water in the puddles and the dew in the still shadowy spots trembled and whirled when the witch passed by. 

So focused on Steve’s power and his beauty, it was easy for the familiar to forget the _spectacle_ the two of them would make coming into the village. Thor didn’t doubt Steve’s beauty drew stares wherever he went but the sight of them together would make people stop and stare, then point and whisper and _wonder_. 

At home with Steven, Thor never thought about his scar and tangled hair and hulking frame because the witch never made him feel anything less than _perfect_. Thor doubted Steve even realized how much his _lack_ of noticing meant to the familiar, how it was a relief when they laughed and Steve met his gaze steadily, unflinching, not visibly wondering which eye to look into or asking what had happened with his scar. 

And when the witch’s breath caught if Thor stood too close, when his delicate frame trembled beneath Thor’s fingers, when Steven blushed so wonderfully _pink_ if Thor showed too much skin…

“You’re growling.” Steve punched Thor in the shoulder-- which did exactly nothing of course-- and then jabbed him in the ribs. “Stop growling. It’s bad enough when you’re in Lion form, but you’re human right now and people are staring. Stop growling.” 

“I didn’t realize I was growling.” Thor cleared his throat and shook his head, tactfully leaving out the part where he’d been thinking about Steve blushing. “And what do you mean it’s bad enough when I’m in Lion form?” 

“I mean sleeping with a massive Lion is scary.” Steve said frankly, pausing near a vendor to run his fingers through a wind chime. “Sleeping with one who growls in his sleep is worse.” 

“I don’t growl in my sleep.” Thor objected, and the witch retorted, “You absolutely do. Also, I think you were dreaming about chasing a ball of yarn the other night….?” 

Steve _ack_!-ed when Thor simply shoved him into a display of yarn, then bounced back out and pummeled at the huge familiar a few times. “You can’t just push me when you get tired of me!” 

“I can and I will.” Thor wrapped one big hand around both Steve’s fine wrists, squeezed just lightly enough to make the witch blush scarlet clear to his ears, then moved on as if he hadn’t noticed. 

He _did_ notice the people staring though. And maybe Steven was right and they were only staring because he’d been growling but lingering _uncomfortable_ in the back of his mind told Thor they were staring because he was damaged, they were staring because he was massive and his scar was hideous and his hair was too long, too messy. 

Once upon a time Thor had liked to be stared at, to be talked about, he’d craved the glory of the battle and the attention it brought both his Lion form and his human form but now--

\--now he only wanted to hide from it, wanted to cringe from pointing fingers and wide eyes, wanted to find someplace dark and alone and away from the questions about _how_ and _why_ and _when_ , wanted to bury himself in drink or food so he wouldn’t have think about everything he’d lost and the scars he carried as proof. 

Thor wanted to go home but Steve wanted to shop so instead of walking away from his witch, Thor shifted into his Lion right then and there on the street, turned whispers into gasps with the motion, shook his huge head and bared his teeth at the passers by until they went along their way. 

No one looked at a Lion with pity. 

_No one._

“Come on.” Steve gathered up Thor’s clothing and tucked it into his bag, hooked the straps over the Lion’s head and knotted his fingers in the thick mane, hid his sadness and sympathy behind a quick smile. “Come on, let’s just get our groceries and get home. I forgot how terrible it is here when all the tourists are around.” 

Weeks at Thor’s side had given Steve at least a measure of patience, a measure of _clarity_ when it came to reading the familiar’s emotions. What had seemed obstinate at their first meeting was clearly just insecurity now, what felt like impatience when the Lion pushed at him was Thor silently begging Steve to hurry up and let them go home, what felt like surliness from the big familiar was Thor unable to put words to how he felt so instead he was _silent_. 

_Silent_ all the way through town and their walk back into the hills, silent as Steve put the groceries away and silent when the witch finally turned to him and said softly, “Let’s go to the river together, hm?” 

“I just want to lie down.” The first words Thor had spoken in hours, and he was too miserable to cover the lie. “Leave me alone.” 

“You don’t want to be alone right now.” Steve wasn’t excellent at giving comfort-- nor was he excellent at receiving it, but that was a different story-- and despite the quickly growing bond between witch and familiar, it hadn’t been all that long ago that he and Thor were strangers. 

So instead of words of comfort or carefully turned phrases of encouragement, the witch decided on sarcasm and a teasing, “You don’t want to be alone, and I learned a new sweep the leg trick. You’re the perfect size to go _thud_ when you hit the ground so it’s a win-win for everyone involved. Come on.” 

“No.” This time, edged in a growl so Steve shrugged, snorted “Pussy.” and brushed past the Lion on his way towards the river, calling over his shoulder, “Thought it’d be a cold day in Hell when you were afraid to go up against a little witch!” 

There was a snort, a huff of breath, and Steve smiled to himself when he heard the whump of heavy paws trodding along behind him as he headed for the willow tree. He wasn’t great at comfort, but he _was_ learning how to help his familiar and that-- that felt good. 

“Shift up so we can train.” Beneath the willow branches, Steve kicked out of his shoes and flexed his toes in the grass, reached up as high as he could to set the suncatcher spinning. “Being in the village made me anxious too--” 

“-- I am _not_ anxious.” 

“--well I am.” Steve finished, narrowing his eyes at the Lion. “So come on and help.” 

“ _No_.” 

“Why’d you come out here then?” Always present impatience warring with the need to actually try and do something nice for his-- the-- nope, for _his_ familiar, Steve put his hands on his hips and huffed, “You said I wouldn’t learn anything if I practiced on my own so come on. Witches and familiars are supposed to help each other.” 

“And how does this help _me_ , specifically?” Thor’s voice rolled deep with aggravation and more than a hint of hurt as he turned away from his witch, his usual sense of bravado and good naturedness faltering after so many hours of insecurity and dredged up memories. “Let me lie by the river in peace.” 

“If you sulk by the river, I’ll raise it up and drown you.” the witch replied flippantly. “You are taking this too seriously you know, you always say _I’m_ too serious but right now you are being dramatic for no good reason. So a few people stared at you, what’s the issue? I get stared at all the time.” 

He was pushing the Lion now, egging him on and purposefully irritating him and while a part of Steve knew he probably _shouldn’t_ push a powerfully huge familiar to the breaking point, there was a part of him that knew sometimes screaming was the only way to feel better about life and that part kept him running his mouth--

“At least I get stared at for a real reason.” he taunted, and Thor’s shoulders went very stiff. “I’m a water witch and everyone knows we are unstable and dangerous. It doesn’t bother me, and it shouldn’t bother you.” 

“It should bother you.” Thor bit out. “Being stared at, ridiculed for who we are at our core is _not_ something you should be fine with.” 

“Or maybe it’s something you should get over.” Steve tossed back and there, _there_ it was, a shift of anger in the familiar’s eyes and a curl of lip to show just the hint of fang. Anger was terrifying but at least it was something other than sulking. 

If there was one thing and one thing only the warlock Schmidt had taught Steve it was that _letting go_ was equal parts destructive and freeing, and though Steve was understandably frightened for the Lion to be destructive, _this_ was what the bond was for. It wasn’t supposed to be tolerance or simply living together, witches and familiars were meant to see each other at their most powerful and again at their most vulnerable, they were meant to know each other and if this is what it took to know Thor--

“Get over it.” he said again, almost bored as if Thor’s feelings didn’t matter in the least and _that_ was what finally tipped the familiar over the edge. 

“You are not to tell me what I can and cannot feel!” Thor snarled and the ground _vibrated_ with the force of it. “You cannot begin to understand.” 

“So it’s alright for you to tell me what to feel?” Steve cut in, and the river tossed itself in its bed, roiling and rolling as the tension reached a fever pitch. “It’s alright for you to push me around and laugh when I fuss but it’s not alright for me to tell you you’re acting like a spoiled prissy pussy cat--” 

The Lion _roared_ and Steve _screamed_ when several hundred pounds of animal took him to the ground, massive paws on either side of his face, dangerous fangs frighteningly close to his jugular, golden eyes burning angry and scared and _hurt_ only an inch from his own. 

“I am Thor.” the Lion growled. “Soldier and warrior, victor of the ancient battle fields, heralded as a god among those I have saved. I am _Thor_ , a Viking, I have traversed the seas and conquered the waves, I have tamed wilds and frontiers the humans have yet to discover, I have torn men apart--” his teeth popped loud in a warning. “--with my bare hands and I have felt them bleed out between my jaws, I have gained more in my several hundred years than most witches could ever hope to imagine, I have lost more than humans could even fathom and still they stare at my _damage_ and pity me.” 

The Lion swallowed, long claws digging into the dirt, voice lowering to a hissed whisper, “They pity me, see my damage and my scars and think I am broken, that I am useless. They don’t understand the scope of my loss, they don’t see that I am a man of power and a creature of depth beneath these wounds. They say harsh things as if I do not already feel the sting of my failures and the weight of my actions every day on my shoulders. I dream every night of all the things I might have done different to set my life on a different course, six hundred years I’ve roamed this Earth and these last hundred have been steeped in nothing but grief. They do not understand and _you_ do not understand and little witch, _you_ should not test me.” 

The river swept over its banks, rushed towards the pair as the water itself leapt to save the witch…

...then faltered in its path and slowed when Steve held up a hand and shook his hand, when the witch didn’t look away from the Lion, and Thor’s brow furrowed over the lack of reaction from Steven, over the lack of anger or even fear. 

Anyone else would have been still screaming, fighting, pushing at him or calling their magic to move his mass but Steve simply lay _still_ , trembling but unafraid, hands tiny but gentle where they rested on Thor’s fur. 

“Sometimes--” Steve wet his lips and swallowed hard. “Sometimes the only way to feel better about our lot in life is to scream about it. I-- I understand that. I do.” 

“You couldn’t possibly.” Thor heaved himself off of Steve and stomped towards the river, flopped down at its banks and watched the ripples distort his reflection until the picture was just as ruined as he felt some days. 

It was unsettling to be so angry and to not have someone be angry back at him. For so many years Thor had drowned his weariness in drink and acted out his anger and grief with fights but Steven was offering him support, was offering to strengthen their bond by virtue of simply listening and in his heart Thor _knew_ this was what the witch familiar pact was about but--but he wasn’t used to it.

It was one thing to insist Steve acknowledge the bonds worth by training together. 

Another thing entirely for Steve to acknowledge their bond by so easily giving Thor what he’d craved for far too long. 

“I used to braid my Ma’s hair before she got sick.” Steve came to sit by the Lion and Thor tensed for a moment before slim fingers settled in his mane and tugged lightly at the matted strands. “I got pretty good at it. Would you like me to try with your mane? We can push some of the furniture aside to make room for both of us and I’ll do it by the fire. What do you say?” 

There it was-- space for Thor and a spot where he belonged, gentleness and acceptance, a chance to rest and not be weary-- and it was almost too much all at once for the familiar to bear. 

“Come on.” Steve was not usually calm nor patient, but he was both those things as he coaxed the Lion to his feet and started back towards their home. “Come on. Let’s do something different with the rest of the day.” 

*************

“My Ma used to use lavender oil in her hair. She liked the way it smelled and it made her hair shiny. My Pa loved it.” 

The fire was crackling merrily in the little living room of the house, the furniture pushed away so Thor could stretch out and pillows on the floor so Steve had somewhere soft to kneel as he worked the oil into the heavy mane and painstakingly combed through the mats. 

“I think all of my good memories are tinted lavender.” Steve smiled a little when a knot came free and the hair combed beautiful and silky through his fingers. “Ma loved the scent and after she and Pa passed away, I kept using it. It keeps me calm, keeps me focused. Reminds me of her.” 

Thor was quiet for several minutes, chin pillowed on his paws and gaze unblinking as he watched the flames dance behind the grate. Steven’s fingers in his mane were gentle, the touches over the myriad of scars on his scalp and the big one at his brow almost tender and the simple act of grooming had the Lion fighting for a breath that wasn’t tinged with tears.

_How long had it been since Thor had cared to fix his mane?_

_How long had it been since someone willingly took the time to help?_

_Too long._

“My mother loved roses.” he finally said, and Steve paused only a second before resuming his braiding. “She grew huge gardens of them, even created a hybrid bloom that flowered all year long. Freya’s Rose, they called it. She was a true saint, so powerful a witch she was nearly a goddess. Strong and beautiful. Wise. Caring. Infinitely patient with me and unfailingly understanding of my sibling.” 

“She sounds wonderful.” Steve inched in so he could reach a braid closer to the Lion’s ear.

“She was.” Thor closed his eyes against the memory. “She tended my wounds from the training fields, coaxed Loki through the early days when their water powers came to be. She kept them from the destruction of red and the day we lost her--” 

He swallowed and Steve murmured something soft and understanding. 

“The day she was lost to our family, the Kingdom sank into grief.” Almost a whisper now. “The rose gardens withered to nothing as hre magic faded, my father the King became only a pale comparison of his usual self. I took my sadness to war alongside my blade, my teeth and my claws.” 

“And Loki?” 

“Loki.” The Lion seemed to wilt under the words. “My sibling lost themselves in their powers. The rush of magic tinted their skin blue, their eyes red. The water turned to ice in their veins and frost at their fingertips.” 

“Wh-what?” For the first time all night, Steve’s rhythm faltered. “Your sibling was lost to the red? To frost?” 

“The same day I lost my mother, I lost my best friend as well.” Thor’s voice went deep with mourning. “I saw them only once afterwards, once across the battlefield where they stood at the side of the enemy. I was distracted, took a hit to the face that cost me my eye and my beauty and I never saw them again.” 

“...their frost.” Steve whispered. “Did it destroy them?” 

“I have been too afraid to look for them and find out.” The admission was heavy with decades of _guilt_. “They could be lost to the frost, they could be gone all together. I don’t know and I am too much a coward to find the truth. Life is difficult enough, another loss might very well break me. Tis safer to not know than to find out and let it kill me.”

“Water knows water.” the witch murmured after a moment. “If you ever decide you are ready to look, maybe I could help.” 

Thor’s sigh seemed to come from his very bones, but he didn’t answer so Steve didn’t say anything else either. He finished combing and braiding through the golden mane in silence, let the warmth of the fire lull him in closer and closer to the Lion’s body until he was leaning into Thor’s side and propped up on the familiar’s shoulder as he worked. 

Thor shifted over so Steve was more securely tucked into his side, closed his eyes and almost _purred_ as the witch worked and peace fell over the little house. 

And in the village, in the back parlor of _Magic and Magnolias_ , Natasha stirred from her nearly asleep perch on Pepper’s lap and asked, “Do you feel that, my love?” 

“Yes darling, I do.” Pepper kept her eyes closed, kept running her hand in soothing circles up and down her love’s back. “Something magic has settled and melded and blended together.” 

“Something peaceful.” 

“Yes, definitely peaceful.” 

“Mmm.” Natasha sighed and curled in close again. “It’s almost like we know exactly what we’re doing when we pair witch and familiar together, isn’t it?” 

“Almost like we’ve had half a millenia to perfect our craft.” Pepper agreed with a quiet laugh. “Imagine that.”

*********

 **Chapter Notes:**

_Thor’s heartbreak hurts my heart. Idk why I do this to myself._

_Scrappy bratty Steve being so sweet and braiding Thor’s hair and Nat and Pep being so smug like “oh what’s that? another perfect match finding each other? go team” is top tier goodness_


	4. Chapter 4

If that first fight beneath the willow tree by the river had changed the familiar and witch dynamic, the night spent talking, grooming and then falling asleep together in front of the fire created something entirely _new_ between the two of them. 

Steve woke up that next morning still pillowed into Thor’s side, the Lion’s huge frame curled protectively around him and though Steve could have slipped away and started the day before sunrise, instead he stayed snuggled warm with the Lion until Thor stirred close to an hour later. 

The witch had been flustered and shy when their eyes met, but Thor had rumbled low and gorgeous and carefully _carefully_ rubbed his huge forehead into Steven’s in a non verbal _thank you_ before heaving his bulk up and padding away. 

And it was _new_ now, each morning enough water for two cups of tea boiling on the stove and enough breakfast made for both a massive familiar and an always hungry witch. Thor didn’t seem to take up as much room in the little house or maybe Steven had simply made room for him and didn’t think he was in the way anymore. Steve wasn't as defensive or maybe Thor had learned to look past the quick snark to what the witch was honestly trying to say. 

Afternoons at the river training stretched into early evenings beneath the willow tree, staring up through the branches and watching the sun track across the sky as they talked about nothing much at all, both content to simply exist after so many years of being too afraid to let down their guard. Lavender tea shared at night led to hours spent in front of the fire together, Thor all too happy to lie still and let himself be groomed and petted, Steve enjoying the chance to create and _nurture_ after working so hard to tamp down his water magic’s more destructive tendencies.

The sigils carved into the door posts faded into the woodwork as Steven reached for them less and less often, his hands busy weaving braids, training with Thor or practicing even simpler magic and seeing how the bond with his familiar had strengthened him so quickly. Thor moved between both his forms seamlessly now, no longer retreating to his Lion to hide his feelings and instead openly reveling in the myriad of chances to make his witch smile, to brush a quick touch along the little fae’s side, to let magic crackle like electricity along his skin and turn the blue of Steve’s power _purple_ as it surged. 

Every day brought them a step closer, a step further into the witch and familiar bond, less able to hide from one another, less likely to be anything other than open and honest, supportive and comforting. There was something to be said for two battered souls finding empathy and understanding with each other and as spring rolled into summer, their days became less about purposefully working towards the goal of being well matched and more about simply... _being_. 

Simply being _together_ , that is, and it was that particular want that brought Thor to Steve’s side early one evening with a hopeful expression, lavender oil in one hand and comb in the other. 

“You want me to braid your hair in your human form?” Steve wasn’t saying _no_ , but the witch was certainly surprised when Thor settled cross legged between his knees and undid the bands that held his long hair back. “Isn’t it easier when you are your Lion?” 

“Aye.” Thor closed his eyes and shuddered when Steve didn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into the locks and scratch at his scalp. “But I thought the braids might stay tighter if you tried with my hair instead of my mane. Do you mind?”

“No no.” Steve swallowed, throat clicking dry and mouth suddenly _parched_ when Thor fit further back between his thighs, golden skin warm from a shower, water droplets still hovering in the dip at the familiar’s collarbone. “No, this is-- this is fine. I don’t mind.”

Thor purred in human form too, and Steve usually loved the sound. He loved to know his familiar was content with their simple life, loved that his own magic seemed to spark whenever the Lion was happy. But tonight the sound vibrated from Thor’s frame up Steve’s legs and clear into his core, made the witch’s heart race when the sound deepened as Thor relaxed further into the soothing brush strokes, made him flush and desperately need a drink when the familiar wrapped thick fingers around his ankle and rubbed slow circles along the delicate bones and through the arch at his foot. 

A moment like this was one Steve had never dared hope he’d have, one he’d never dreamed he’d find with any familiar, much less a familiar like Thor whose strength roiled through every word and touch and _breath_. 

_Oh oh oh…_

“I used to braid my siblings hair.” Thor said then and Steve forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. “Loki wore their hair well past their shoulders and my skill was no where near yours, but I enjoyed the time together all the same. They cut it after we lost our Mother, and after I lost them on that battlefield I grew mine out.” 

“In memory, perhaps?” Steve wondered, and Thor lifted one massive shoulder in a shrug. 

“Aye, in memory. Or maybe because I could hardly stand to see myself in the mirror afterwards and twas easier to let my hair get long and unkempt.” 

“Well, I love your hair.” Steve decided, and was rewarded with an endlessly fond smile from his familiar. “And should I ever grow mine out, I’d let you braid it.” 

“You mean you’d let me groom you.” Thor’s eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter, and Steve flushed pink and shoved at him, muttered something only faux grumpy and went back to work with the comb. 

Braiding was so relaxing, the repetitive motion and slide of long hair through his fingers, the way their breathing synced up and heartbeats seemed to slow the longer Thor sat still and almost meditating, the lavender oil heating in the warmth of the fire and tinting the air hazy and drugging. _These_ were the quiet moments where witch and familiar souls aligned more fully, when their magic grew stronger just with the act of being together. Some pairs never made it to this moment, other pairs like Natasha and Pepper had enjoyed it for centuries, but no one-- _no one_ \-- ever learned to not be thrilled by the intimacy, no one’s heart ever stopped skipping a beat when their other half relaxed content into their arms. 

The wonder never went away and the awe never dimmed. 

“Our magic is well matched.” Thor spoke up again sometime later, low and rumbling and Steve’s breath caught when the familiar leaned heavier against him. “Can you feel it the way I do? Our connection?” 

“I-- I think maybe it’s stronger for you because you are older.” Steve stammered uncertainly. “I spent so long along with just Schmidt, I don’t really know how it’s supposed to feel.” 

“Tis supposed to feel as if a weight has lifted from your shoulders.” Thor lolled his head back to rest in Steve’s lap, blue eyes tinting golden as he looked up at his witch. “As if the steel bands have loosened from your chest and you can finally breathe for the first time in decades. As if your magic is open on your skin, more potent by the second because someone else is there to coax it forward.” 

“Oh.” Steve took a chance and drew very light fingers along the line of Thor’s jaw. “That’s-- that’s what it feels like to me. But also as if my heart is straining forward out of my chest demanding to wholly _know_ something. I suppose you’re that something?” 

“I suppose I am.” Thor answered gravely, and then in a whisper, “You aren’t frightened, little fae?” 

The witch wet his lips, shook his head and _lied_ , “I am never frightened.” 

“You could do this all day.” Thor’s mouth tipped up in a knowing smile, hearing the lie but choosing to tease instead of confront. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Of course that’s right.” Steve ran a curious finger over Thor’s top lip, feeling the edge of a prominent fang beneath the facial hair. “Do you always have your fangs? I hadn’t noticed before.” 

“Not always.” Thor’s lips parted as Steve touched him and the witch’s breath audibly hitched. “Only when I am this content and blur between forms.” 

“I’m happy you’re content.” Steve said quietly, honestly. “And you’re beautiful like this, with your fangs and your eyes golden…” gently, tenderly over the thick scar that split his familiar’s face, breathing a soft blessing of healing water along the hurt. “Beautiful, my familiar.” 

Thor’s throat moved as he swallowed, and Steve tracked the motion with his palm, hand slipping to rest over the Lion’s pulse. “Is that alright? Can I call you _my_ familiar or are you too old to care for a term like that? I know the older familiars tend to think claiming one another is nonsense but--” 

“Hush.” One of Thor’s huge hands came up to carefully carefully cradle the back of Steve’s head, sifting through the white blond strands and coaxing him to bend forward and down until their lips met once, twice in a nearly chaste kiss. 

“ _Thor_.” 

“Sweet fae.” Again their lips met and the witch melted against a coaxing purr from his familiar, the Lion shivering as the last drops from his shower trembled and twisted against his skin as Steve’s magic flexed and sent the water moving to each beat of their hearts. 

“I-- I need--” Steve whispered and Thor groaned, arched up into their next kiss and tried to twist his little witch around to pull him down into his lap. “N-No wait-- wait--” 

The Lion familiar stopped immediately, pulled away from a kiss and loosened his hold, brow furrowing uncertainly. “Steven?” 

“Before we-- before we do this.” Steve was _exquisite_ , flushed and panting, the lavender tea in his cup swirling and cutting patterns in the air as he tried for patience, his self control taxed to near breaking by only a few innocent kisses. “Before we-- Thor, I need to tell you about Schmidt.” 

“I don’t need to know the secrets of your past to know we are perfectly matched.” Thor turned and sat up on his knees so they were face to face, forehead to forehead. “But you heard my grief, so I will hear yours. What about Schmidt?” 

“Not tonight.” Steve slid his hands into Thor’s braids and tugged gently, closed his eyes against a feather soft kiss on his nose. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. But we should talk soon. Before we do… this.” 

“....I’ll be your first, Steven?” 

“Yes.” Faintly, and the Lion growled in approval. “But I want you to know all of me before we move forward. I know the things that make you sad, the secrets you hold close to your heart, I want you to know mine too. 

“Of course. Soon?” 

“ _Soon_.” 

**************

Another lazy afternoon by the river, and this time Steve was truly meditating, bare feet planted in the dirt and hands moving slowly through water signs as the river twisted and melded at its banks following the witch’s magic. He was deep in thought and had been for hours now, connected low to the ground water and high to the clouds as they moved across the sky, eyes closed and lips moving as he mouthed silent spells. 

He was _beautiful_ , delicate and fierce, tiny and somehow every bit the warrior the Lion was and Thor was happy to lie in the sun and watch his witch weave magic in the air. In the days since their first kiss Steven had been talking more, opening up about his past and his time beneath the ice but there was still more to know, more to learn before the witch would be ready for Thor’s embrace and the familiar was content to sit and _wait_. 

Steven had taken the weight of Thor’s guilt and shifted it into healing and acceptance and the Lion was ready and willing to do the same should his fae decide it was time to talk. Not all witch familiar bonds turned to romantic or even sexual love, but theirs would. Thor could scarcely breathe for want of his witch, but he lay still and watched until Steve decided he was ready. 

Thor didn’t want to know about Schmidt, he didn’t want to know about the warlock that had instilled such fear into the little blond, he didn’t want to know anything that made the blue in Steven’s eyes shade purple in worry or red in _anger_ but he was willing to listen. 

And beyond that, he was willing to _wait_. 

Six hundred years Thor had roamed the Earth, the last hundred spent wallowing in guilt and grief, what was a few days or weeks so Steve could find the words for his own heart ache? 

“Thor.” 

It could have been minutes, it might have been hours later when Thor opened his eyes from a nap to find Steven calling for him, and he lumbered to his feet immediately, shook out his mane and padded closer to his witch. 

“Steven.” the Lion bumped his head affectionately into his stomach. “Have you finished with your meditation?” 

Steve didn’t answer for a moment, only wound his fingers into Thor’s mane and pulled the Lion in closer, closer again until their foreheads rested against each other and then in a soft, almost terrified voice--

“Thor, I-- I killed him.” 

The river _surged_ , twisted and flooded its banks when Steve’s hands tightened in the golden strands, guilt weighing the words down heavy.

“I killed Schmidt.” Again, nearly inaudible, and Thor growled softly, comfortingly as water began pooling around his paws. 

“His rage had turned his water red.” the witch continued in that same hushed one. “It turned his _skin_ red until he was something only evil. I should have left, I know that. I should have left, but he was the only witch I knew, the only one who hadn’t turned their backs on me, so I stayed even though he frightened me. He was all I had after Ma and Pap got sick and passed.”

More water now, inches of it soaking Thor’s feet and the bottom hem of Steve’s pants as the river flooded and ground water bubbled to the surface in a reaction to the witch’s grief. 

“He wanted me to be like him.” Steve was shaking now. “He tried to hurt me to make me angry so I’d unleash my magic, and when I refused he-- he tried to kill me.” 

The water was ice cold, swirling around their knees, compromising the ground and turning the grass and dirt into shifting, sucking mud. 

“But I-- I killed him first.” Quiet, _damning_. “He scared me, so I pulled the water from his body and forced it to his lungs until he drowned.” 

“ _Steven_.” 

“I’ve never felt more alive than I did watching him die.” The mud grew soupy at their feet, almost quick sand, sucking at their shoes and pulling them down as more of the river rushed around them. “It was like I could feel his heartbeat slowing, I could almost feel his last breath as the water bubbled up out of his throat.” 

“...I wanted to give in...red is the prettiest color.” 

“But you didn’t.” Thor steadied his stance when Steve faltered in the thick mud. “You didn’t give in, the red didn’t consume you, my witch.”

“Only because I locked myself down. Used the sigils to protect me from others and to protect me from myself.” Steven’s eyes were brimming purple with tears, red sparking at his fingertips. “I am terrified of what I might do one day. What if I slip and lose control? I am still so angry about my life, about being turned away and cast out and Schmidt trying to end me. What if my anger rages and the water surges and I-- and I--” 

“I am strong enough to stand with you.” Thor called his own magic from deep within his body, sent it like _lightning_ into the heart of the water and Steve shouted, dropped his head back and cried out when he felt the force through each individual drop reverberating in his core. “You will never lose yourself because _I_ will always know who you are.” 

The water rose a little more, the waves tossed a little higher and Thor rumbled like thunder in defiance, stamped a heavy foot and _growled_ until the water froze shimmering blue. 

“I am strong enough to stand with you.” the Lion repeated, and shifted to human just in time to catch his witch when Steve collapsed with a teary gasp, when the witch finally _let go_ and learned it was freedom and not destruction. 

“Little fae.” Thor went to his knees with Steve in his arms, cradled his witch close over his heart and pressed kisses all over Steve’s face, into his hair and down onto his cheek. “I’ve got you.” 

The water receded slowly, creeping back from their feet and drying the ground beneath them, the river settling back into its banks again and the air lightening without the press of rain heavy clouds. A bird sang tentatively in the branches as a calming wind wound through their little sanctuary and brought the scent of lavender blooms from the hills, hazy and warm and as peaceful as the sun catcher that cast rainbows of light over their embrace. 

Steve’s eyes blinked open soft purple and Thor caught him up in another kiss simply because he couldn't resist, because he didn’t _want_ to resist, because there wasn’t a familiar in existence that could stare at their witch staring at them in wonder and not want to do something about it. 

“I’ve got you.” he said one last time. “Sweet fae, I am strong enough to stand with you always.” 

Steve finally smiled, and Thor immediately ducked to kiss him again. 

“Thank you.” 

_Epilogue_

It was nearly the end of summer by the time Nat and Pep came by to check on Thor and Steve, and they found the little house had been entirely re-done to allow plenty of room for the matched pair. The couch had been traded for a huge chair the two most certainly shared, the other furniture moved aside to make room for either of Thor’s forms. The bedroom boasted a clearly often used bed big enough to hold Thor’s bulk and the sink was full of enough dishes to prove the pair shared every meal together. 

It was domestic and homey, and both the Madame Witches sighed in relief when they caught sight of Steve and Thor walking along the river together, Steve’s fingers buried in Thor's intricately braided mane, the Lion bumping and nuzzling at his witch and Steve laughing as he pulled water from the river and splashed his familiar playfully. 

“We should leave them be.” Natasha decided, lifting her skirts to avoid crushing a newly bloomed patch of lavender just outside the door. “Obviously there’s no need for us to check in on them, they are doing just fine together.” 

“They really are.” Pepper touched a nearly faded sigil sign for distance at the door, called her own magic and twisted the design until it proclaimed welcome instead. “It makes my heart happy to know Thor has finally found rest.” 

“And Steve has finally found someone to share the weight of his magic.” Natasha’s full lips curved in a smile when the Lion leaned into boop noses with his witch, and then in the next breath was human, falling down into the grass and bringing Steve along with him, the witch curving the water up and around them to draw a curtain of rainbows around their bodies. “Look how far his magic has come. Now he is casting rainbows instead of boiling purple and red.” 

“They were an excellent match.” Pepper linked fingers with her wife and started back down the path towards the village. “But I confess I’m afraid I’ll be bored without a relationship to meddle in. What shall we do with all our free time?” 

“You could try getting me out of my corset without using magic to simply poof it into non existence.” Natasha suggested, and her love gave an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, Pep. You can’t say you love to unwrap me and then simply _disappear_ the garment when the mood strikes you.” 

“But the look on your face when you are quite suddenly topless is so fun!” Pepper leaned down to drop a kiss on Nat’s wrinkled nose. “And if it _truly_ bothered you, you’d create a counter spell to keep your clothes on.” 

“Clearly it doesn’t truly bother me.” Natasha said drily, and Pepper only laughed and kissed her again. “Has there been any word from our wing-ed friend?” 

“This might be his answer coming along the wind right now.” Pepper put one hand protectively over Natasha’s outrageously ornate hat so it wouldn’t fly off her head in the midst of a sudden, obviously magic induced windstorm that whirled and twisted round their bodies. “There, you see?” 

She plucked a carefully folded note from the midst of the mini storm, and the winds died down immediately as she opened it and read-- 

_Madame Witches,_

_I don’t think I’m ready for another familiar yet, but I trust your guidance._

“I think he’s the first one to openly admit that our guidance is what’s best for everyone involved..” Natasha remarked and Pepper pursed her lips in agreement and kept reading. 

_I’ll be riding with the summer winds through the valley and will stop by Magic and Magnolias._

_When can Clint and I meet?_

_Sam._

_*********_

**Chapter Notes:**

_I tend to HC Steve as pretty angry/slightly afraid of what he’d do is unleashed. You see it more in my AU fics, but even in the TFA trilogy we got a good peek at Steve who was pissed off at the world in general and then also way more violent than anyone thought he’d be? Idk, I have lots of reasons to HC him that way, but mostly I like when he Murder Stomps and witch!Steve might be Smol but I’m pretty sure he’d have a good murder stomp too._

_Thor physically quelling the storm from Steve is awesome, I love that mental image._

_FALCONHAWK COMING UP NEXT. CAW CAR MOTHERFUCKER_


End file.
